The List: Deleted Scene
by Ardatli
Summary: A deleted scene from The List, a QAF/CM crossover casefic. This scene was one of the first ones that I had drafted for the story, but ended up not quite fitting in the finished product. It's a shame for it to end up on the cutting room floor, so to speak, so here we go.


Author's Note:

So I have a deleted scene from my QAF/CM crossover that I figured I'd toss up here as a bonus, just for fun. This was one of the first scenes I'd written, as I was fleshing out the story, but it unfortunately ended up being superfluous. I discovered as I kept going that the information delivered in this scene worked better coming from other sources - Garcia, mostly, during the profiling scene - and I couldn't figure out why the scene needed to be there otherwise. The story was structured as a Criminal Minds case, which meant keeping the pacing sharp and quick to resemble an hour-long episode, and that meant that any scenes which didn't directly advance the plot and/or add vital character insight really couldn't be there. So this one got cut.

Part of my process when writing a crossover is multiple passes through a scene. I jot down notes, first, as to what's going to go in a scene, what information needs to be conveyed, and so on. Then I pass through to put muscles on it - fill in setting details, dialogue pieces, anything that occurs to me that I don't want to forget. Then I do specifically targeted character passes, where I pick one voice in the scene and flesh out that POV/dialogue, make sure that it works for the character and show in question. Then I pick the next character, and do the same thing, concentrating only on that character's voice and perspective. It helps me catch things that I might not, on a general reading.

This scene isn't quite finished, in that I hadn't done "the Final Hotch Pass" yet - so it's mostly Dr. Wilder and some first-impression reactions from Hotchner. I hope it's still interesting, even if just for a glimpse at the editing process, or 'what might have been.'

**November 12****th****, 2007, 2 pm:**

**Office of Dr. Alex Wilder**

The psychologist who worked with the local PD was in his mid-thirties, though his prematurely white hair made him seem older at first glance. The dark suit made him blend in with the rest of the detectives in the building, except for the hair; the fact that he didn't dye it, along with the manic edge to his energy, suggested that Dr. Alex Wilder possessed something of a flair for the dramatic.

Hotch followed him into the small cubicle that passed for an office and closed the door behind himself. "Detective Horvath told me that you know Brian Kinney," he opened the conversation, glancing around himself to take in the space. No family pictures on the desk, but a painting of a fractal or a mandala on the wall; abstract art, meant to draw the eye and act as a conversation starter. Subtle. "Was he a patient of yours at any point?"

"Brian Kinney? No, he's never been a patient of mine." Not officially, anyway. "I know him socially."

"What's your impression of him? Could he be capable of murder?" Hotch sat on the edge of the guest chair and watched Wilder as he perched on the edge of his desk and toyed with one of the six identical ballpoint pens in the small blue cup.

"Kinney? I wouldn't think so. It's hard to say never, of course, because people are _capable_ of all kinds of things that they would never actually do under normal circumstances." Wilder was hedging, realized that his reluctance to commit his opinion to words was inadvertently condemning at the same time.

"Kinney's an arrogant bastard," Wilder picked out one of the pens, flipped it over his fingers, pursed his lips and considered his next words carefully. "And he'd make a fascinating case study. Narcissistic, addictive personality to the extreme, probably flirting with borderline personality disorder. I'd suspect childhood abuse, though I don't have any proof. But murder?" he shook his head. "I don't think so. His self-loathing is entirely inwardly directed. Every time I've seen him spiral down - and believe me, there've been a few episodes - he systematically gets rid of everybody he can from his inner circle, so that he doesn't drag them down with him. Taylor especially."

"Taylor. That's his lover."

"Former lover," Wilder raised an eyebrow at the stoic FBI agent sitting across from him. "Unless you know something that the rest of Pittsburgh doesn't?" And wouldn't _that_ be something; Brian Kinney, tamed again? He'd been remarkably absent from the baths and the Babylon backroom the last year or so, but Alex had optimistically chalked that up to Kinney finally - maybe? - starting to come to terms with his life rather than fucking and drinking it away. "But yes; Justin Taylor. Now _they_ were an interesting pair."

"How so?"

Alex was warming to the man; Agent Hotchner was direct, to the point, left him plenty of time to talk, and Wilder had the very strong suspicion that anyone who got Hotchner on his couch would be booked three times a week for years to come. "The age difference, for one thing. Kinney took on almost a parental role with Taylor, post-bashing especially. You know about that incident, of course."

A nod, the expression not really changing in Hotch's eyes.

"Did you know Kinney was there when it happened? He took out the attacker's knees with the same bat. He sees his lover bludgeoned, sees him collapse, no idea if he's just witnessed a murder – and he goes for the knees, not the head. Even when he was running on pure, unadulterated, reactive instinct, he couldn't kill." And that wasn't exactly a professional evaluation, but he'd stand by it.

"He's the one who saved Taylor's life. In more ways than one. He nursed him through the PTSD that resulted, worked his physio, got him back into art school. Paid for it too, if the rumours are right."

"And what did Kinney get in return?" A dark frown, under dark furrowed brows.

"Other than an eighteen year old in his bed? That, Agent Hotchner, is one of the sweet mysteries of life."


End file.
